


To His Coy Master

by Aredhel_Alcarin



Category: GOT7
Genre: GOT7_TAROT_19, M/M, Supernatural Hunters AU, exploration of different kinds of love I guess, the slightest Jinyoung/Jackson if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 05:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20092171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aredhel_Alcarin/pseuds/Aredhel_Alcarin
Summary: It’s already been two months since it happened, a truly dark spot in Jackson’s memory that has only kept spreading; threatening to destroy the life he has been building towards this point. How the tiniest moment can shatter the pillars of what you took for granted so quickly it’s mind-blowing, really; how a blessing can be turned into torture.





	To His Coy Master

The woods are quiet.

The night sky is brighter than it should be in the middle of the countryside, any surface that’s facing up glowing with that milky, magical-looking gleam only the moon is able to conjure; creating darkness and fears behind every tree: tricky for hunting but great for spells, not that Jackson knows much about that. It would be a bit chilly if he hadn’t been smart enough to take his jacket but the grass he’s sitting on has already warmed up enough to be comfortable; so he’s fine.

Everything else sucks at the moment, but at least he won’t catch a cold.

Some animal growls softly in the distance, but there are still a few days until the full moon so he’s not worried. The area is protected, in any case.

He grabs a handful of grass absent-mindedly, slowly throwing it away leaf by leaf, mostly so he has something to do with his hands. His back is facing the cabin, the bulb yellowish light coming from its windows elongating Jackson’s shadow towards the woods. Obviously they’re still awake, is not that late. Obviously they must be talking about him. Debating. He should apologize. He should explain himself instead of just being there, bathing in his own self-deprecation, but he doesn’t want to make things worse; so he’s waiting for the storm to pass. It’ll do, eventually.

Maybe he’s just being dramatic. It feels awful, though, and it’s not like he has chosen a random scapegoat to throw all his frustration at. The weight in his chest has eased a little.

It’s already been two months since it happened, a truly dark spot in Jackson’s memory that has only kept spreading; threatening to destroy the life he has been building towards this point. How the tiniest moment can shatter the pillars of what you took for granted so quickly it’s mind-blowing, really; how a blessing can be turned into torture.

He must have done terrible things in a previous life, or maybe it’s just, I don’t know, karma; for the relatively easy life he has enjoyed until now.

Jackson’s mother was a hunter from a very young age. She came from a wealthy family of scholars, brains and strength dedicated to investigate the occult, and she was lucky enough to find and fall in love with a healer that understood her way of life. He was a doctor that used his day job to pay the bills and his free time to help patients with not-so-earthly problems and, despite what it may look like, they met because she was investigating one of his regular cases. It’s hard enough to create a family once you’ve stepped into this world (it’s practically impossible to maintain a love life if your significant other lives outside it), but they made it work. They were the perfect match.

So Jackson was raised knowing monsters were real, developing a completely rational and justified fear of darkness. Every night he made sure his room’s windowsill and doorstep had a very thick line of salt poured over them, checking that his protection sigils were perfectly drawn in the walls and his dream catcher didn’t have any broken thread. He did it with the same vehement anxiety any kid asks their parents to look for monsters under the bed or into the closet, and he was left equally satisfied and secured when he made sure everything was as it should be as that same kid when the closet turned out to be empty.

Having a hunter mom wasn’t as cool as it may sound, especially if you couldn’t tell your friends and classmates; but he loved her more than anything. His father had been disappointed when he took the riskier hunter life, Jackson knew that, but healing wasn’t for him (and he couldn’t really dedicate his life to anything else knowing what horrors filled the night).

Jackson became a somewhat famous hunter in Hong Kong, specialized in beasts, so much that he started getting cases from abroad. He did a couple of jobs for some of his mom’s friends in Japan and Vietnam, each of them a complete success, and he felt at the top of the world: when he learned about an apparently unkillable _bulgae_ in South Korea, even if this time he wouldn’t have any contact in the country, he didn’t think it twice. It felt like a deserved prize.

He was young and full of pride, and the _bulgae_ almost killed him.

But luck was on his side that day, despite being so far away from his father or any of his mother’s friends that they couldn’t get there in time to save him (plus Jackson had never really memorized any of the healing skills his father had tried to teach him). Miraculously, a Korean healer found him and took him to his cottage.

(It was really the healer’s bodyguard who found Jackson, but whatever.)

His name was Youngjae and he was a really, really good physician. He used very different techniques than Jackson’s father, mixing spells and creating new ointments taking ingredients from several recipes; and his presence affected your mood like a vitamin dose. Jackson spent almost three days in a drugged slumber while his body tried to fix itself; although his full recovery would take a couple of weeks more. In retrospect that time would probably be the most important of his life; he just didn’t know it yet.

Youngjae’s life was simple, not that Jackson was very aware of anything most of the time on those very first days, but he was very good company. For a guy with such a gory job he was pretty cheerful, always laughing and making sure Jackson followed his every order with a big smile. He also had a tiny warg, so small that Jackson had to verify it wasn’t an actual dog; but Youngjae explained in a very broken English that they found him rejected by her mother on the woods, underfed and dying, with a very ugly harpy wound; so she never grow to be as big as she should. She couldn’t live in the forest now, so they kept her. She was a good pet guardian.

Mark, Youngjae’s bodyguard, was a ragged hunter that spent most of the day outside the house looking for food and patients. He spoke English, luckily for Jackson, and although he wasn’t a man of many words they were easily on good terms.

Then, one night, Mark brought a man from the woods. He had a broken arm and some scratches here and there, but overall he seemed to be okay. He was talking to Youngjae in Korean so Jackson could only guess what they were talking about based on their expressions and body language, which he found pretty relaxed; so he came to the conclusion that it was nothing serious. Youngjae nodded and went to the warehouse to find whatever he needed, shaking his head on the way, like a mother whose son has scrapped his knees _again_. Jackson asked Mark what happened, and he simply said “he’s jinxed.”

He later learned that the jinxed guy’s name was Jaebeom and he was a ghost hunter, which Jackson found terribly appalling because there was nothing scarier than fighting invisible, immaterial beings. Also, ghosts tend to be really close to curses and witches, and he has seen what those could do. That’s why he stuck with beasts.

His jinx was apparently way more powerful than they had expected based on his not-so-grave state and it took longer than usual to break it, Mark told Jackson, but they were used to Jaebeom being unbelievably lucky. He never had any real serious injury, fights that should have let him bleeding barely left a scratch, and the few times he had actually been cursed it took him days or even weeks to realized it because the effects were never that visible. He could probably be considered a bit of a jackass, too, but when the world tells you over and over that it’s never as bad as it seems you develop a rather reckless sense of adventure.

Jaebeom spoke very little English and Jackson had only learned like four or five Korean words in the few days he had been there, but while Jaebeom waited for his humerus to consolidate and Jackson recovered from his near-death experience they somehow became friends.

It was surprisingly easy, given the circumstances. Jaebeom looked like a jerk, to say it nicely; moody and hard and ready to punch you in the face, and he didn’t talk much in the beginning. He seemed to have a good relationship with Youngjae and Mark, though, and Jackson had seen him laugh and joke and eat more than what his mouth should be able to hold in one bite; so he tried to make him teach him Korean.

They were both super bored because the mobile coverage was shaky and the only books on the house were medical ones, plus Youngjae couldn’t always be there for them; so it was logical enough to start talking.

Jackson found that Jaebeom had, if that was possible, even less sense of embarrassment than himself, and they were both huge softies at the core. Jaebeom story was very different from Jackson’s, though, and much more distressing: he never knew his father, and his mother died in a weird fire when Jaebeom was barely two years old, completely unaware of the magical world that surrounded her. Jaebeom grew up with some neighbors who were friends of his mom, very superstitious people but completely outside of the hunter world; and they were convinced his mom had been cursed because that was the only explanation for that inexplicable fire and how he was miraculously left unharmed.

Growing up believing that he started to study the magical world and that’s how he became a hunter, although his adoptive parents still think he’s simply a researcher traveling the world.

Once Youngaje discharged them both, Jaebeom suggested helping Jackson hunt the bulgae that had left him in such a state. He said that it would be fun to try and hunt a beast, for once, and Jackson was sensible enough to accept the help, so they tried. And it may have been because of Jaebeom’s stupidly good luck, but they made it. They killed it. They found out they worked really well together, combining their different skills and knowledge, so why not keep doing it? So they did. Jackson was excited to explore a whole new country and even more excited about exploring Jaebeom, and finally they came to an agreement to alternate beasts cases with ghosts cases to keep it balanced.

It took them some months to realize what they felt for each other, but Youngjae will always say he knew from those first days at his cottage they were made for each other.

And, truth be told, Jackson has never regretted it; not for the slightest moment. The hunter life can be quite lonely if you don’t have a partner, romantically speaking or not; someone to keep you from taking unnecessary risks and boost your confidence when you’re feeling down. Someone that understands you, that you can rely on, that takes just as much comfort from you as you take from them. And, you know, if on top on that you also get to know that person in the Biblical sense, that’s just an extra. A very much appreciated extra, but still. So they kept together, hunting both creatures and ghosts, and they end up becoming quite famous in their circles.

Everything was going great, slowly growing into what could perhaps be described as _perfect_; until _it_ appeared a couple of months ago.

Until he almost lost Jaebeom, getting him back at the last minute only to feel like he’s losing him again now.

It all started with a hunt, as it should have, for what they thought was a poltergeist terrorizing some small village. He doesn’t even remember what was so interesting about the case anymore but being a ghost case Jackson was already not very happy about it, even if he was mostly used to them by now; but it became way worse than whatever he may have thought when they realized it was no poltergeist: it was a demon.

A literal, fucking real demon.

It was the most terrifying thing Jackson had ever faced, and much more powerful than he could express with words. Animals and creatures may be huge and scary, yeah, but they’re brute force. You know what to expect of them. But a demon? An evil vessel of pure darkness? It could have killed them, right there, right then; with just a wave of its hand.

And it almost did.

It shot a blast, throwing both Jackson and Jaebeom to the floor, and what the Hell do you use to hurt such a thing? They had iron bullets filled with salt, which kind of slowed it down; but they needed to distract it long enough to draw a devil’s trap on the ground to keep it still while they exorcize him, which were too many things to do while running away from it: it was one of those moments when you realize a strategy looks excellent on paper, but not so much on execution. Jackson had more experience with guns, being a literal hunter and all that, so he took the role of the shooter and hoped Jaebeom was fast enough to draw the circled pentacle.

They were in the middle of the woods, Jackson trying to hide behind some crooked tree trunk, but the demon tore it like it was the thinnest of papers and threw the whole thing onto him. He barely made it, his leg trapped under the fallen trunk, his shoulder bleeding and his chest hurting like Hell (he later learned he had a couple of broken ribs); and yet it was worse to see the demon slowly walking towards Jaebeom and not be able to do anything to stop him.

The demon stood there like it was just barely annoyed, seizing Jaebeom. He quickly tried to recite some foreign words that Jackson knew by then summoned a shield spell, which usually worked, but before he could finish the enchantment the demon jerked his hand and suddenly Jaebeom was pulled up in the air. It had his arm reached towards Jaebeom, who was floating more than a meter from the ground gasping for air, its hand tensed like it was telepathically grabbing him by the neck.

Jackson screamed his name, frenzied and terrified, but he didn’t get an answer.

He could clearly see the suffering in Jaebeom’s eyes, trying to breathe for his life, while Jackson was desperately fighting to free himself from under the tree to go and help him. The rifle was too far to reach being trapped, the pain in his chest making his movements slower and clumsier, and he started panicking when Jaebeom’s face started to lose color.

Breathing was starting to get more difficult, too, though Jackson didn’t know if it was because of his injuries or simply the result of pure anxiety.

This was the perfect moment to have a stroke of luck, one of those miraculously-made-it-alive stories to tell their friends that Jaebeom seemed to collect; but Jackson couldn’t see a way out. Maybe he could use his finger to draw some small sigil on the earthy ground, if he wasn’t so physically far from them; maybe he could scream even louder to try and get the demon’s attention and make him lose focus. Maybe he could throw some rock at the demon’s head, maybe, he could–

And then, out of nowhere, everything was white.

It wasn’t an explosion, it was just– light. Very, very bright light.

It lasted a second and then it vanished, slow and thick, like it had been somehow physical; and suddenly Jackson counted three people.

They were difficult to discern, Jackson’s eyes still getting accustomed to the changing illumination, but they were undoubtedly one too many: Jaebeom, now carefully lying on the floor, the demon, twisting and screaming for mercy; and a very ghostly human-shaped silhouette with his arm extended towards it. Making one last painful effort Jackson could finally free his leg, which hurt a lot but was luckily just a bit bruised, and run to them.

But, before he could get there, the demon was already burning into Hell flames until it became nothing more than very dark ashes; losing its shape at the same time the shadow seemed to become more and more tangible as Jackson’s eyes got used to the blackness again. At that moment Jackson couldn’t tell if the new creature, whatever it was, was a friend or a foe –plus in any other context it would have struck him as oddly creepy (and possibly quite funny) the fact that it was completely naked–; so when it kneeled next to Jaebeom and put a flat hand over his chest Jackson didn’t think twice and threw himself onto it to punch it.

His fist never got to touch it, though, Jackson’s arm changing directions like a sudden airstream had thrown him off course; and he could only stand there, looking, while trying to regain balance. From the creature’s palm emanated a soft, bluish light that spread over Jaebeom’s body, concentrating on certain areas that Jackson suspected where injured; and at that moment he realized they were going to make it.

It was healing him.

Jaebeom coughed softly, still dizzy and mostly unconscious, and only then Jackson was able to hug him and checked he was, in fact, alive.

His breathing was steady but soft, maybe a bit quieter than it should have been in that situation; and his body felt heavy. He didn’t seem to be bleeding but he could have internal damage, even after the healing, so Jackson took off his phone with shaking hands and called Youngjae. He answered after three tones, the longest fifteen seconds of his life, and Jackson tried to unsuccessfully organize his thoughts.

“He doesn’t have any external injuries but it was a demon, a fucking real _demon_; I don’t know what happened, I need, I need you to see him, he’s–”

“It’s OK, Jackson, try to breathe” Youngjae said, his voice firm but gentle. “I can’t be there in less than five, maybe four hours, but you shouldn’t let him lying in the middle of nowhere. Are you close to any shelter?”

Jackson tried to think, which was really difficult when he was constantly making sure Jaebeom was still breathing.

“I think, uh, do you know Yugyeom and Bambam? I think their shop is just half an hour away.”

“That’s perfect” Youngjae said, in a soothing voice. “Take him there and tell them to put protective sigils around him, they should have some amulets.”

Jackson was on the verge of tears just from anxiety, but he managed to keep his voice steady.

“Yeah, OK. We’ll meet there.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Everything is gonna be OK.”

Jackson sighed, putting his phone back in his jacket, and checked if he had his car keys with him. He would have to carry Jaebeom to where they had parked, outside the wood limits, but it wasn’t far.

“He’s safe now” the creature said, because apparently it was still there (and still very naked), and Jackson scoffed.

“Yeah, fuck you too.”

“Let him come” Jaebeom whispered, dizzy, grabbing Jackson’s hand and squeezing it softly; and, fuck, he couldn’t say no to him, right? Even if he wasn’t in his right mind and very possibly had a concussion, Jackson didn’t have time to argue or try to convince him that thing was dangerous when he didn’t even know if Jaebeom was all right.

At least it had saved them, right?

So Jackson simply carried Jaebeom on his back, as carefully as he could, and started walking towards the car. The silhouette followed them, its steps light and heavy at the same time, quiet and eerie; not making any sound during the whole walk until it spoke again when Jackson was fastening Jaebeom seatbelt.

“You’re hurt” the thing said, raising its hand towards Jackson’s chest, but he promptly hit it to move it away.

“Don’t touch me” he spat, and got into his seat.

“Go inside” Jaebeom whispered to the creature, raising his hand to stroke Jackson’s once he was seated. Jackson shut the door with his other arm, frowning, but didn’t say anything when the thing found a place in the backseat.

He just drove.

When they arrived, after roughly half an hour that felt impossibly long but also too short to sort his feelings about what had just happened, Jaebeom was sleeping again. He was snoring softly, as hunched over Jackson’s shoulder as the seatbelt let him, his face calm and at peace. The creature remained on the backseat, still and rigid, locking eyes with Jackson when he looked through the rearview mirror right before pulling the handbrake and start unfastening Jaebeom to help him get out.

Bambam was already on the door (Youngjae must have called, bless him), gesturing to them and helping Jackson, and trying not to be too obvious about his confusion on the naked man following them. He said Yugyeom was preparing everything inside.

“Youngjae said he should rest while we wait for him. He also said to put some sigils around, just in case.”

Bambam nodded.

“And…?”

Jackson scoffed.

“Just– give it some clothes. I’ll explain later”

And he did. They let Jaebeom lie on a big coach on the backroom of the shop, both Yugyeom and Bambam saying he looked tired but fine, though they weren’t so sure after Jackson had explained what happened with the demon and the– well, now clothed creature; which hadn’t left Jaebeom side, always staying at an affordable distance. It made Jackson uneasy, even if it didn’t look remotely menacing or threatening. It did look reverent, though, like it was guarding its most sacred and beloved possession; which was somehow worse.

It looked at Jaebeom exactly the same way Jackson did, and that was terrifying.

“So the demon just– burned? Without an exorcism?”

“Maybe it did exorcise it, I don’t know” Jackson said, frustrated. “I don’t even know what it is.”

“He looks pretty human to me” Yugyeom mused, though there was something, he couldn’t pinpoint what, that made him feel esoteric.

“Can he talk?” Bambam asked, and the three of them turn to watch him guard over Jaebeom. There was no sign that it had heard them, or that it cared. It had been politely ignoring them; meticulously supervising the room while they prepared the protection spells and then focusing all his attention on watching Jaebeom sleep like a creep.

Jackson nodded, despite everything.

“Jaebeom kept asking me to tag him along. He must know… it must mean something.”

“Should we ask him?”

Jackson shook his head.

“I don’t wanna interact in any way with that thing until Youngjae’s here and he’s put his most powerful sigils around. It can be friendly now, but I’ve seen what it did to that demon. It didn’t even touch him.”

So they waited.

And, almost four hours later, once Youngjae and Mark had already set his protection perimeter, they finally sat around the small table to talk. The house was filled with enchantments that should have warned them if the mysterious creature was evil or, at least, potentially dangerous to them; so they felt like they could relax. Yugyeom had brought some drinks; two coffees for the ones who should remain alert, two beers for the owners to celebrate that unusual meeting and a lime blossom tea to calm Jackson’s nerves, because he wouldn’t lie down to rest until he knew exactly what was going on.

It turned out Jaebeom was fine, was _too _fine, in fact; no internal damage and not a single physical sign of struggle, just fatigue, his heartbeat completely normal and regular. Which was absurd given the fact that they had just battled a demon and Jackson had, for starters, two broken ribs, a nearly sprained ankle, a bleeding knee and multiple scratches and bruises; so that was weird.

The creature was still there, also completely fine and unharmed, still guarding over a sleeping Jaebeom and still ignoring them.

So Jackson told the story, again, under the attentive gaze of Youngjae and Mark.

He frowned once Jackson had finished.

“So” Jackson started, “what do you think? Do you need to set any extra spell?”

Youngjae looked at Mark, who tilted his head, pensive.

“He looks– benevolent. Not many things can exorcise a demon with their bare hands.”

“It may have cheated, I didn’t see it well. I agree it’s been of help and it probably saved our lives before, but… I don’t know, there’s something about it. I don’t like it.”

“I have a theory” Youngjae muttered, almost as if he was embarrassed to even suggest whatever he was suggesting, “but it’s so far-fetched I’d really want to do a bit of research before getting to any conclusion.”

“So you do have seen something like it before. That’s good!”

Youngjae made a face.

“I may have, but” he started, fidgeting with his fingers, “only in books.”

“So what, you need to consult some occult encyclopedia? Ask Google?”

“I should talk to him” Youngjae said, eyeing the creature, “and to Jaebeom.”

Jackson looked to the others, frowning like they didn’t understand Jaebeom had almost died barely a few hours ago and he needed to rest, even if Youngjae said he was completely fine; and grunted. In the end he got up to talk to wake him up, probably because he was also curious, but he made sure to do it reluctantly. He touched Jaebeom’s shoulder lightly, trying to bring him back from slumberland as softly as possible, but Jaebeom put his hand over Jackson’s right away with a tiny smile.

“I’m awake” he said, his voice a bit raspy.

“Do you feel okay? We can wait if you still feel sick.”

Jaebeom shook his head.

“I’m fine. Help me sit.”

Jackson put a couple of cushions behind his back and gestured the others to take chairs and sit around him, and took the place that was now free next to Jaebeom on the couch. The creature remained where it was, quiet, until Jaebeom gesture towards it.

“Come here.”

The creature hesitated.

“You don’t need to sit” Jaebeom said, warmly, and it followed his voice. Then, Jaebeom looked at Youngjae. He talked a bit slow, like he had to think for the words, but he truly looked fine. He just sounded sleepy. “What do you wanna know?”

Youngjae seemed uncomfortable, like he was intruding in something he shouldn’t have, and he cleared his throat before speaking. He obviously didn’t know where to start.

“Do you… know him?” he asked, and yet it didn’t sound like a question. It was a hypothesis, an already thought-out proposal that still needed some clarifying, and Youngjae was equal parts excited and wary about what he could find.

Jaebeom chuckled, a bit surprised, and looked to the creature from the edge of his eye. He spoke with such a tiny and soft voice that it made Jackson’s heart hurt.

“I was hoping you could explain that to me.”

“What?” Jackson exclaimed, but Youngjae raised a finger in front of his head to keep him from talking.

“Since when?”

“I don’t know. Forever? I’m not sure.”

Jackson looked at Jaebeom then at Youngjae, completely lost, but at least Bambam and Yugyeom seemed to be on his same page. Mark simply looked pensive.

Youngjae turned to the creature, then, and tried to hide his shyness.

“Uh, hi.”

The creature gave a little nod.

“Can you talk? Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I can” it said, and it didn’t look particularly offended or surprised by the question. He didn’t look particularly anything, to be honest, except when it looked at Jaebeom.

“Do you, uh, have a name?”

“I have never needed one.”

“That’s sad” Bambam said, earning a sharp stare from Youngjae. He shrugged, apologetic.

“Okay, well. We c–”

Then the creature made the tiniest jerk, like he was trying to determine where a certain sound was coming from. The radio from the shop was always playing at a low volume (both Bambam and Yugyeom claimed they needed some sort of background noise, plus it sometimes helps make small talk with the customers), and a new song had just started.

Jaebeom raised his eyebrows and chuckled, recognizing it.

“It’s been ages since I last listened to this.”

“Isn’t this Park Jinyoung?” Yugyeom guessed, trying to follow the melody. “My mom used to love him.”

“It does sound old” Bambam joked, making him laugh.

“My aunt used to play it all the time; she said my mom was obsessed with it and it should remind me of her” Jaebeom said, shy. “Of course I was too young to remember anything from that time, but I guess my aunt had what she wanted. It does remind me of her now. You recognize it, right?”

The creature nodded slowly.

“From your memories.”

Jaebeom smiled as warmly as when Jackson snuggled with him at night on the couch, and it made his blood boil.

“That’s super creepy, what the fuck.”

“It’s okay, Jackson” Jaebeom assured him, stroking his hand. It helped a little.

(A teeny tiny little.)

“What if we call him Jinyoung” Yugyeom proposed, half-joking.

Bambam snickered, but Youngjae simply raised an eyebrow.

“It would be much easier for us if we could name you” Youngjae explained, “would you mind if we call you Jinyoung?”

The creature looked at Jaebeom, as if asking for permission, and he simply shrugged cheekily.

“If you like it.”

“Alright.”

Jackson was super against naming it like a father is super against naming that stray dog your kid has brought home, the soon it is back to where it came from the better; but he stayed quiet. They all would have to come to their senses eventually.

“Great” Youngjae nodded, “Jinyoung, then. How long have you known Jaebeom? Do you remember meeting him for the first time?”

“I have known him all my life” Jinyoung answered, as matter-of-factly as someone can. He spoke like his words were simple vehicles for the Truth behind them, and Jackson wondered if it would be unable to lie or if it reality would just bend to its wishes. Both options were kind of terrible after such a statement. “I was born from his mother’s death.”

“What?!”

“That’s what I suspected” Youngjae murmured, hushing Jackson again. Why was Jackson the only one who seemed shocked by all this nonsense?

“So he’s a guardian?” Mark asked, his quiet presence helping sooth everyone nerves.

“I think so.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, what’s a guardian?”

“There are, well, stories; about certain spirits being created by the sacrifice of a loved one. I’ve never seen one, I’ve never… I thought they were just myths” Youngjae frowned, like it was too good a discovery to be true. “A life for a life… a life for the security that another life would be protected forever.”

“Like a guardian angel?” Yugyeom asked, looking at Jinyoung in sudden, complete awe.

“Something like that? I’m not sure the word ‘angel’ is strictly accurate.”

They all looked at Jinyoung at once, like they expected something to happen, but he simply looked back at them. It didn’t have a halo, or wings, or thousands of eyes; or whatever angels were supposed to have, it just looked… weirdly human, for a creature that was also so obviously supernatural. But it was more a sensation, a _feeling_; like an eerie stillness in the air.

“But my mother wasn’t an occultist” Jaebeom said before anyone else could add something, although he didn’t seem particularly worried about this small inconsistency. “And neither was I, much less as a baby. So how?”

“Not every magic is… well, occult.”

“What do you mean by that? God, I hate _magic_” Jackson spat, angry and confused.

“Do you know how you were created?” Youngjae asked, carefully.

“I was born from a desperate need” Jinyoung said, like that explained everything. It looked at its own hand, frowning, like it was still adapting. “You humans… your physical body can barely hold your potential, you’re too dependent on Earth’s sustenance. Your flesh prevents you from using actual ancient magic, but that line is crossed when your conscience is separated from your body. Dying does that to you, but… permanently. There’s a fraction of a second where your soul can reach the source.”

“She was wanted to protect the baby” Mark whispered. “She didn’t even know she was summoning a spirit.”

Youngjae nodded, fascinated.

“So you’ve been watching over him ever since?”

“I’m part of him. I can’t leave his side.”

Jackson wasn’t sure if it meant that literally, and he truly hoped he didn’t.

“So you’ve been following us this whole time? Couldn’t you just have said something?” Jackson asked, angry. How the others could not think that thing was the ultimate creep? Had it really been watching them all the time; not only during hunts, but also during more, well, _private_ moments? Had Jackson been sharing his relationship with an unwelcomed third part, a fucking celestial voyeur? It wasn’t even the sex he felt violated about, but the… intimacy.

Every smile, every small touch. Every ‘I love you’.

“I wasn’t… here” Jinyoung managed, making an effort. “I couldn’t communicate from there.”

“There?” and this was Jaebeom this time, Jinyoung’s face softening and his voice melting.

“It’s… difficult to explain with your current understanding of physics” Jinyoung struggled, like he wanted to create some sort of ethereal hologram with his hands like one of those police agents in Minority Report. He sighed through the nose. “I’m not usually in this… plane. I’m not usually a corporal entity. Having limbs is” he sketched a smile, “interesting.”

“You mean like another dimension?” Youngjae asked, hoping right after speaking he hadn’t ruined the moment.

Jinyoung tilted his head.

“If you can understand it like that. I can… ‘see’ the other side. Your side; because I’m bound to Jaebeom. He’s surrounded by me.”

“I’ve always called you luck” Jaebeom joked, and Jackson felt his stomach twist.

“That’s one way to see it. I can affect your plane; change the possibilities, the probability percentage. I can summon the Light. I can even materialize here, into a human body, if things get too harsh. But.”

Jinyoung’s cadence was– strange, to say the least. Not robotic, not... _mechanical_, but definitely not human. Every word was carefully chosen, like he had to mentally go over the entire dictionary each time to make sure that was the exact term he was going for; and he had no sense of prosody. His intonation was completely linear and his face showed no emotion, and yet there was a huge difference in his voice when he was talking to Jaebeom and when he was referring to anyone else.

It made Jackson shiver.

“But?” Jaebeom asked, warmly, and they all waited.

Jinyoung looked away.

“I can’t go back. I’ve tried. Maybe I’m just– _tired_” he said, like the word sounded foreign in his tongue. “Drained.”

“We usually sleep when we feel like that” Jaebeom said cheekily. “Or eat. Do you eat?”

“This is body is… prepared. To function outside biology. It’s not a real one.”

“But maybe you should sleep. Sleeping is good” Jackson said, talking for the first time in a while, his voice incapable of hiding his apprehension. “There’s a bed upstairs.”

“I can’t go that far” Jinyoung explained, looking at Jaebeom, and for the first time he looked worried. Anxious, even. “He’s here. I’m not used to– I have never been faced with even _the possibility _of not seeing him. I can’t sense if he’s in danger if I can’t see him.”

“So what, are you just gonna… stay here, right beside him? All the time? I can protect him.”

“I know” Jinyoung said, that matter-of-factly voice again, and Jackson backtracked a step. He hadn’t expected that. “I’m just a shield.”

“So are you immortal, then?” Yugyeom asked Jaebeom, trying to change the subject and the general vibe of the room.

“He’s not” Jinyoung answered, “but I mostly am.”

“Even with a mortal body?”

Jinyoung remained silent. Maybe he didn’t know.

Jackson crossed his arms, but Yugyeom was very eager to know more.

“How did you kill that demon?”

“I didn’t kill it.”

“Well, exorcize it, whatever. How did you do it?”

Jinyoung looked at his hand, again, as if he was discovering it for the first time.

“I just sent it back.”

“Back? To Hell?”

Jinyoung nodded.

“To the Pit, yes. Discorporating them is usually enough.”

“But how?” Bambam asked, before Youngjae could go on with his interrogatory. Jackson was starting to lose patience, it wasn’t even _that_ interesting. “Jackson says you didn’t verbalize any exorcism, nor used any amulet. So how?”

“I used the Light.”

“You mentioned that before. What light?”

Jinyoung looked up.

“Holy.”

There was a small silence.

“Are you sure he’s not an angel?” Mark asked, half-joking, and Youngjae shrugged uncomfortably.

That had been two months ago; time more than enough for Jackson’s ribs and bruises to fully heal but not quite sufficient for his wounded– what, ego? Self-esteem? Basic understanding of social relationships? He knew he was getting crankier each day, much to his own dismay, because somehow Jinyoung _was still there_.

Still in that stupid human-looking body, still having absurdly _holy_ superpowers.

Yugyeom and Bambam were also there, of course, it was their shop after all; and they had been generous enough to let the rest stay with them because for some reason they found Jinyoung absolutely hilarious, not that Jackson could understand their line of thought. But he was grateful; not only because they had let him recover there and use the space as a sort of temporary hospital, but also because of their company. They obviously knew what they were doing, their business having provided hunters with equipment and magical resources for years; but they also knew how to make you feel welcome, and Jackson really needed that at the moment.

They had been mere acquaintances before all that, but now he was confident in calling them friends.

Youngae and Mark had stayed, too, first to supervise Jackson’s recovery (since Jaebeom hadn’t needed one in the end); but then saying it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to study such a rare individual, like Jinyoung was worth their time like that. Like they were ready to change their plans on such a whim, their, their projects for the future; without having a clear path or even a certain goal to pursue. Whatever.

Things are awkward, now. Have been for some time.

It’s not that anything has changed between Jackson and Jaebeom, despite everything. They still love each other deeply, they still spend all the time they can together, there’s not any fight or unresolved quarrel that interferes between them; and yet.

Jaebeom doesn’t really talk to Jackson about Jinyoung, mostly because he asked him not to. It wasn’t an easy conversation to have but at least it didn’t come out as a veiled petition or an angry demand, which Jackson is proud of. Communication, and all that. And Jaebeom’s okay with that, he understands, but that’s terrible; because it makes Jackson feel like the bad guy. Like he’s forcing Jaebeom to choose a side, which he is not.

But Jaebeom knows that; so he takes Jackson’s hand when he’s feeling anxious like he has always done, he kisses him shyly in the cheek (he has never been good at PDA) like he has always done, he nudges against Jackson’s neck at night when they’re sleeping, as he has always done.

He looks at Jackson like he’s the Sun, as he has always done.

But there’s Jinyoung.

And it’s not like it’s needy or clingy, and even if it’s never more than a couple of rooms away from Jaebeom, it’s pretty respectful. It doesn’t intrude, it doesn’t demand.

But it’s there.

It’s there and it has a somewhat active affinity with the others, which is fine. It talks to them, it helps them. Seems human enough.

But then it gets to Jaebeom, and Jackson can physically feel the red string tying their souls together so clear it’s almost painful. It is always pretty pure and chaste, pretty– _platonic_; there’s mostly just talking and sometimes simply sitting together, watching TV or reading. It usually happens when he’s not present, Jaebeom trying to make things easier for him, but that’s worse.

Or maybe not, he’s not sure. Maybe it would be worse seeing them be– soulmates.

Jinyoung understands Jaebeom in such an intimate way that it makes Jackson shiver. It still sounds creepy to him.

So, tonight, he snapped.

Over the smallest thing, really, as these things usually go (he won’t remember it tomorrow).

He had screamed and said a couple of nasty things towards Jinyoung, and Jaebeom had tried to placate him. He had tried to speak in a soothing voice, which would have worked just fine if he wasn’t using it to create a veiled shield over Jinyoung.

Against Jackson.

So he stormed out, feeling guilty the moment he stepped outside the door, but he needed time and the breeze would cool his nerves, so he had stayed.

And now he was there, looking up at the night sky, feeling really small in such a macrocosm.

Thinking, or rather trying not to think. The night is quiet, the shop being kind of in the middle of nowhere outside the limits of the city (that’s kind of the point, though, so only the people who know it’s there would go in to buy). There are no houses around, no people living near the area, just the occasional customer ready to take some salt bullets or a couple of true rabbit’s tail amulets home.

The usual.

But there are no sounds coming from the shop either, hasn’t been since he left the room and shut the door aggressively behind him. There are some mosquitoes trying to find some light source and a soft breeze not strong enough to move the trees whistling a sorrowful song, and then he listens the door opening.

He doesn’t turn. If Jaebeom wants to talk he’s going to have to be the one who does the talking, because Jackson has no idea where to start.

There are steady steps getting closer to him, slowly but deliberately, and he feels the lights coming from the shop windows dim and obscure his vision as a shadow is cast over him. The steps stop, hesitantly.

Jackson waits.

“Jaebeom said we should leave you alone for a while” the dark silhouette says, and Jackson looks back as unhappy as he can be.

He looks front again, pressing his lips together.

“You should have listened to him.”

“But you have a problem with me” Jinyoung starts, dispassionately exposing his case like a fancy veteran lawyer, “and that’s affecting him.”

Jackson feels scolded, and frowns.

“So are you here to beat me up or what? Are you good cop or bad cop?”

Jinyoung purses its lips in confusion, assessing him.

“Can I sit?”

Jackson is about to say ‘no’, but a mix of masochist curiosity and morbid guilt takes over him and he simply shrugs. This is the first time since Jinyoung made its appearance that they’re alone, just the two of them, if that means something.

“It’s a free country.”

“I don’t know what that means in this context.”

“It means you can do whatever the Hell you want.”

There’s a small pause and Jinyoung finally sits next to him, close enough to talk without raising their voices but not so much that people would think they’re sitting together. Jackson doesn’t know if he feels relieved or insulted.

“I can’t, though” Jinyoung says, not talking to Jackson in particular.

“Can’t, what?”

“Do whatever I want.”

“So what, you think you’re special? Welcome to society, where we have rules and laws to make sure we don’t kill each other in our sleep. Works most of the time.”

Jinyoung makes a small noise that could have shadowed a laugh if it hadn’t sounded so above a feeling as human as laughing. He seems amused.

“Rules and laws can be broken. Punishment means there has been an act of rebellion, it’s a consequence.”

“Not always.”

“Not always” Jinyoung concedes, then adds “Should mean, then. The fact remains. You humans were gifted,” he says, but seems to change his mind as soon as the word leaves his mouth; “no, actually, you were authorized with free will.”

“By who?”

Jinyoung looks past up, right Above them.

“The Universe.”

Jackson looks up, too, but there are no answers in the stars. He tries to think of all that as a metaphorical joke and, when he asks, he means it as an insult.

“Are you sure you’re not an angel?”

Jinyoung gives him the tiniest smile.

“I’m not a messenger.”

Jackson frowns.

“You do seem to have a lot to say, though” he remarks, and lets a couple of minutes pass in silence; in hopes Jinyoung will leave. It doesn’t. “You said you were born right when Jaebeom’s mom died.”

“My conscience, yes. Everything else was already part of the Cosmos.”

“Honestly that sounds way too new age for me to understand” Jackson says, “but does that mean you were a– child, at some point? A baby?”

“I don’t think so.”

“So you were an adult in love with an infant, is that what you’re saying. Like the werewolf in that movie, obsessed with the weird CGI baby” Jinyoung’s face says it has no idea what he’s talking about, but Jackson is already talking again. “That’s beyond disturbing.”

“I’m not in love with Jaebeom” Jinyoung replies, and strangely enough he seems to actually believe that.

Jackson snorts.

“Being in love implies a certain level of humanity” Jinyoung explains, shyly, like he is ashamed of his own configuration. “Love… just love, that’s Holy. That I can feel.”

“If telling yourself that makes you feel better then great, yeah, whatever. But he is in love with you.”

Jinyoung averts his gaze.

“As he is with you” Jinyoung says, matter-of-factly. That’s the stupid Truth voice again. He doesn’t sound angry or jealous, though; if anything, he seems embarrassed to be in the middle.

“But that’s how it’s supposed to be, right? We’re part of humanity, we’re supposed to be in love” Jackson argues, desperately. “I guess we were fine, before, when we didn’t know about you. It doesn’t matter if you were actually there all the time, ’cause we didn’t know. We managed.”

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything.

“You watched over him, and, hey, I appreciate that; I really do” Jackson says, and his voice sounds all but grateful. “You saved his life. And then you had to stay and of course he’s captivated by you, of course he feels indebted. You represent some weird Freudian mom syndrome, of course he loves you. I know it sounds sarcastic, but I get it. That’s the worst part” he says, voice broken, tears fighting to remain in his eyes so they won’t Fall.

He sniffs.

“I get it. He wants to be with you.”

Jinyoung tilts his head, silent. Words aren’t always enough, but he tries.

“Yes, but he is with you.”

“What does it matter? You’re this– immortal, supernatural thing that can protect him from all harm, you, you’ve been with him all his life. He literally _shares_ his thoughts with you. I can’t compete with that.”  
  
“He decided he wanted to be with you a long time ago. He has never regretted it, not even now.”

“But what we have is just, just human. A human, completely average relationship. Everyone has one, it’s not special. You guys are bound, whatever the Hell that actually means.”

Jinyoung stayed quiet for a moment, a soft wrinkle creasing his forehead.

“Isn’t choice much more powerful than destiny?”

Jackson tries to absorb that sentence as the pinnacle of wisdom it was intended to be, but it ends up falling empty. It doesn’t seem to apply.

“You can’t choose. Falling in love, that’s not a choice, it just happens. You happened. And feelings can’t be erased that fast, can’t be disentangled in so little time; but I was gold and now I’m silver, and I can’t change that.” 

“That’s not how love works” Jinyoung says ‘love’ like it’s some ancient word, like it has so much more meaning than meets the eye. Jackson feels inadequate.

“You would know.”

“Maybe not about– lust. About” it makes a pause, looking at its legs, its feet. Its human body, “infatuation. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Are you trying to sell me a Bible?”

Jinyoung makes that weird half-smirk that means he’s got the joke, and exhales through the nose.

“It’s not finite. He doesn’t have to divide it.”

“Are you saying he loves us both equally? ‘Cause that makes me feel so much better” Jackson says, as sharp as sarcasm can get.

Jinyoung simply looks at him, like his eyes can see into his soul (and, for what Jackson knows, maybe that’s what it’s doing), and a tinge of sadness crosses its face.

“That’s not how it works” Jinyoung repeats, and remains silent.

Jackson knows that, conceptually. He knows that if you get a sibling you don’t divide the love you have for your parents. He knows that love doesn’t always measures in terms of quantity but in terms of quality, of category. That it’s not that you love this friend more than you love this other friend, you just love them differently. He understands that.

But it’s nice being the most important person in someone’s life, and he has lost that.

It hurts a bit.  
  
They stay in silence for a while, the cool night breeze helping Jackson organize his thoughts. Jinyoung is looking at the stars with what could be read as a nostalgic shine in his eyes, but his face is as unreadable as ever. He sighs through the nose, long and heavy and mostly noiseless, and shots a quick glance over Jackson before turning towards the now invisible and deep horizon.

“I know you hate me,”

“I don’t– hate you” Jackson says, lamely, before he can’t continue. Hate feels like a major statement and it makes him feel guilty, but he can’t find a better word. “I don’t.”

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply watching him, then resumes what he was saying as he had never paused.

“But I can’t seem to go back. I’m still trying, but it doesn’t work, I don’t understand why. I’m, in the meantime… I’m trying to make it easier for you.”

“Because Jaebeom asked you to?”

“Because you both seem miserable when I’m in the middle, and I don’t want that. I just don’t know how to fix it– yet.”

Jackson sighs. His heart feels heavy.

“I don’t hate you” he repeats, not sure if to make Jinyoung or himself understand. “I just, I can’t help it. I’m terrified of losing him. I’m sorry, though. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Jackson is scared to ask, but end up raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve known you for as long as Jaebeom has, as creepy” Jinyoung uses the same disgust Jackson radiates every time he spits the word “as it sounds. That gives me some perspective.”

Jackson wants to complain that, yes, that’s actually quite creepy, but he’s intrigued.

“So?”

“So I’m quite sure I love you.”

“What?”

Jinyoung smiles for real this time, a sober grin creating tiny wrinkles around its eyes, knowing and unashamed.

“We’re not bonded by magic, fate or blood; and yet it pains me to see you suffer. It makes me warm to hear you laugh, it makes me worry to think you might be in danger, and it makes me happy to be by your side. It makes me thankful and reassured to know that you are by Jaebeom’s side. Isn’t that love, in its purest form?”

Jackson opens his mouth, then closes it again.

He’s not exactly shocked; it’s just that his mind has gone completely blank. Zero. He would think of it as a joke, but he’s not sure Jinyoung is capable of creating humor.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing” Jinyoung resolves, easily. “It doesn’t change anything about you, or the way you should see me.”

“So why did you tell me?”

Jinyoung looks actually stunned by that, like it didn’t even occur to it that there should be a reason, and he takes its time to answer.

“It’s true.”

Jackson purses his lips, suddenly very angry.

“Are you trying to teach me a lesson? The whole you can love two people shit, or what?”

“My journey is not yours.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Can’t you talk like–” Jackson is going to say ‘people’, or ‘a normal person’, or even ‘a human being’. Of course, Jinyoung isn’t any of those things. “Like, just _normal_. God, I don’t understand anything about you and it drives me crazy! I don’t even know why I’m talking to some malfunctioning watchdog that can’t even go back where it belongs!” once he’s finished he’s straight-up yelling, and hides his face in his hands, grunting.

That felt good for a whole solid millisecond, then it’s terrible. Jinyoung lowers its shoulders, like the disappointment was planned but it weighed heavier than expected, and doesn’t reply. Not that it matters, since Jackson is still busy fighting his urge to cry, meaning both scream and weep this time.

Time passes, and it could have perfectly been just a couple of seconds or several hours. None of them can tell, but it is still dark.

By then Jinyoung simply put its hand on the ground to help itself get up, the soft rustling noise of boots over dry dirt the only sign that they were still alive and breathing; and tries to ease the wrinkles in its shirt before turning without looking back.

“Wait.”

Jackson raises his head from his now wet arms, wiping his angry tears, voice broken. Jinyoung stops.

“I’m sorry.”

Jinyoung looks at him, right in the eye, and Jackson feels the most exposed he’s been in his whole life. It’s unnerving and terrifying, but also–

Liberating.

And then Jinyoung decides he’s telling the truth, and that’s enough for the moment.

So he goes back to sit by Jackson’s side, at arm’s reach now, and waits. He has all the time in the world, for both of them.

Jackson shifts, arms crossed on his knees and looking up front, and breathes.

“Thanks for staying.”


End file.
